


Hot Shots

by Darkmagyk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, High School sports, M/M, but only kind of, references to bad childhoods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkmagyk/pseuds/Darkmagyk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil Coulson arrives in Iowa with nothing but his thick black glasses and a bunch of Captain America comics. Clint Barton is a basketball star and one of the most popular students in school. They both happen to work at Hot Shots coffee. Worlds will collide, and not everything will be quite what it seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Shots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrasaki/gifts).



> Written for the Lump of Coul fic exchange. The prompted liked coffee shop and High school AUs and also said "Instead of Coulson being the cool kid and Clint the rebellious reject, Coulson is a giant, huge nerd, with big glasses and all the Captain America comics printed since 1967. Clint is the popular kid, top athlete at school. Worlds collide." I gave it a bit of a twist, but hopefully it meets the needs of the prompt.

Phil walked into Hot Shots Coffee Shop on at the end of June, on his second day in Iowa. He sucked in a deep breath, self consciously straightened his khaki’s and blue button down shirt, fiddling just a little bit with his glasses. He glanced at his reflection in a mirror on the wall and frowned. He looked very respectable. He supposed that would help with this.

 

“Excuse me,” Phil said to the boy behind the counter, trying very hard not to stare to openly. He was tall, broad and blonde with bright blue eyes and an all American smile. His t-shirt read ARMY, and the apron over it proclaimed HOT SHOTS. “I’m here to meet with Ms. Hill, about a job.”

 

“Yeah,” The boy nodded, “give me a second,” He walked to a door sized curtain and stuck his head around back and called, “Maria.” He returned to the cash register and gave Phil his pleasant smile. “You new here? I thought I knew everyone in town.”

 

“Yeah,” Phil muttered, “I’m new.” But he was spared from having to explain anymore by the arrival of a darked haired woman and another boy, the same age as Phil and counter boy, but shorter and skinnier. Also blonde and blue eyed, but maybe a little scruffier around the edges.

 

“Yes, the woman demanded.

 

“Um… I’m Phil Coulson, my aunt, Lucy Jamieson, said you might have a job opening.”

 

“Right,” Ms. Hill said, “Good, I’m glad you are here, We just had Blake Quite, not notice or explanation, and we are running a little short staffed most shifts. Lucy said you’d be able to work all hours.”

 

“Yeah,” Phil nodded, then decidedly that that wasn’t the most professional and that he really needed the job, “...Yes...ma’am.”

 

“Good, you can start now. We’ll call this training, Steve,” she indicated the skinny boy, “can get you an apron and start you off. He and Clint will show you the works this morning and we’ll get all your paper work done afterwards.”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Phil said, like Aunt Lucy had told him. She’s ex-military, call her ma’am.

 

“Very good,” She shook his hand, and he gave a firm shake back, “Welcome to Hot Shots, Phil.”

***

So Phil went to work at Hot Shots. He made coffee and tried really hard not to roll his eyes at customers and his co-workers and not get too bored and lonely in Iowa. Marcus made a point to text him every at least once, and give him an update on the goings on with the city of Boston. Melinda would asked about the weather in Iowa. But it wasn’t the same as having his gang, a group of people he liked and trusted at his back. But, he thought as he wiped down a table in Hot Shots two weeks after his first day, he guessed trusting them had led him here.

But he was pretty sure Waverly, Iowa was not going to get him any friends, until Steve walks in the door for his shift wearing a Captain America t-shirt. It was perhaps a little too large for him, hanging off his small frame and tucked into his tightly belted jeans.

Steve frowned when he saw Phil staring “Oh, yeah, my grandmother has very specific ideas about clothing standards and stuff. I’m really lucky she lets me wear t-shirts.”

“You are a Captain America fan?” Phil asked in surprise, he’d noticed a distinct lack of comic book shops around (though he’d spent most of his time not working holed up in his new room in Aunt Lucy’s house, reading his old books, and counting down the days, 26, until his mother will mail his laptop to Iowa) or even people like wearing Batman shirts. Even some people who’d laugh at a guy for reading comics would wear Batman shirts in Boston. But here is Steve decked out in support of Phil’s favorite superhero.

He blushes a little, and looks down at his chest, “Yeah,” he agrees, “Lots of people don’t know who he is.”

“He’s my favorite Superhero.” Phil says as Steve ties his apron on over the white star. “I’m surprised you are a fan.”

Steve frowned, “Why? Cap’s awesome, hates bullies, fights for what he believes in. Why wouldn’t I be a fan.”

Phil shakes his head, “No, totally, that’s why I like him so much, its more that I’ve yet to see any interest in superheroes around here.” He waves his hands around, as though he’s indicating the coffee shop, but he thinks Steve understands that actually he’s indicating all of the midwest.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “I know what you mean, when I first moved here I was really disappointed. But then I found the comic book shop, and like, it has issues, don’t get me wrong, but its a cool place.”

“I didn’t even know their was one in town, because I hadn’t seen it yet, I was worried.” Phil responds with a smile, Captain America seems like a good place to find common ground.

“I’d say we could go after our shift,” Steve says, taking his place behind the register, leaving Phil to actually make the coffee, “But its Thursday, and the guy who works on Thursday is a jerk,” Steve pauses, considering, “We could go after the shift on Sunday.”

“That sounds awesome.” Phil agrees. He’s about two months behind on all his pulls, and he’d gotten paid yesterday. Cap comics are one of the three things Phil’s currently allowed to spend his money on (the other being occasional fast food and gas) and so it will be nice to look around for some stuff.

The trip to the comic store was fun. The guy behind the counter was named Robert, friendly and personable, and pretty easy on the eyes. He, Phil, Steve, and Steve’s friend Jim have a rousing discussion about if Nolan should be able to make any more superhero movies and Phil ends up spending four hours worth of work on comics. He gets the four issues of Captain America he’s missing, and if two issues of the Punisher find their way into his bag too, well, the exact comics he bought won’t show up on his debit card statement when his dad checks it, and Aunt Lucy won’t go tearing through his room and his car unless she gives him a reason. So its a great day.

And life in Iowa gets better. He and Steve keep hanging out, and he learns that Steve actually got into comics because he wanted to be an artist, and he thinks comics offer some sort of amazing medium and a great place for artistic story telling or something (he had a really detailed explanation, and Phil kind of felt bad that he only understood about every third word of the art theory). But he also learns that he and Steve have other things in common, chiefly that they are from big eastern cities and came to Iowa by something other than choice, and that they they both hate the New York Yankee’s something fierce.

“My dad’s family lived in Brooklyn from the time they arrived from Ireland in like 1840 something until I had to move with my grandmother three years ago.” he explained, “I think he’d come back from the dead and haunt me if I ever liked the Yankees.”

So they watched baseball and went to the comic book shop.  Phil met Steve’s other friends, Gabe and Tim, who declared fedoras to mainstream, and wore a bowler everywhere instead. But mostly they reminisced about Boston and New York a lot.

Between Steve and his gang, daily check-ins from Marcus, and weekly updates from Melinda, Phil might not enjoy Iowa, but at least it made the days pass quicker.

***

But after nearly a summer working together Clint was still a mystery. He had an even cleaner cut look then Steve (because Phil had seen Steve swear like a World War Two soldier on the front, he’d seen Clint cut his finger on glass and just muttered ‘oh crud’) and a bright grin whenever he was in front of customers. But in the back of the shop when he was on his break or signing in or out, he always looked decidedly about everything.

Most of the days he’d wear t-shirts advertising the army, or the Iowa Hawkeyes, or the Waverly-Shell Rock Go-Hawks and jeans. He was always at his shift at least a five minutes early, then stayed late nearly half the time. He also didn’t socialize with the rest of the employees it seemed. Phil mostly only hangs out with Steve and his friends, but Jasper and Val seems to see a lot of each other outside of work, and Ward follows them around like a puppy, it reminded him of how Skye treats Melinda back home.

Clint was cordial to everyone, but despite working a dozen shifts with the guy, Phil didn't know anything about him other than the fact that he apparently did school work during the summer, went for a run every morning at 6 am, and had the most beautiful eyes Phil had ever seen. The last part is a little distracting, particularly because they go hand in hand with his beautiful and clearly bared arms and his annoyingly distracting ass. But at least, paired with the fact that he's so distant, even when he's nice, keeps it from being too much of a problem. Phil finds him hot, but Phil doesn't really find him interesting, and he no more wants to obtain Clint then he wants to obtain the guy from the Hansel and Gretel on the cover of Men's Health this week. Its pretty to look at from a far, but there's no emotional spark their.

That all changes the second weekend in August. Clint's working the register and Phil's making the orders. Its a slow day and they are the only two hanging around, with Maria doing so management stuff in the back.

Then the girl has walked in. She was pretty and petite, both in size and in features. Her skin was pale, like she hadn't spent the summer in the sun, and her hair was bright red ringlets that fell down to her chin. She walked up to the counter and ordered in a language Phil did not know.

Child just rolled his eyes and turned to Phil "She'll have a hazelnut latte," he said, then smirked "Write Natalie on the cup." The red head smacked him in the arm.

"You aren't in the motherland anymore sweat heart," And the grin he gave was not the polite one he used on customers, but was a bright, cheerful thing full of warmth. It, more than over a month and a half of working with the guy, made Phil want to know something more about Clint Barton. "I know in Soviet Russia they might..."

"You are such a jerk," The red head cut him off, before leaning over the counter and kissing his cheek. "I can't believe I missed you."

"Right back at you, honey," He responded. And this wasn't clean cut, all around nice guy Clint, this was all sarcasm and snark, a cokey lilt to his smile. He turned to Phil with a glint in his eye, and Phil suddenly got the impression that it wasn't just Clint's eyes that were beautiful, it was pretty much all of him, "Women, am I right."

Phil just nodded dumbly, filling out the order. "And its Natasha," the red head told him, as he started to write her name, "Not Natalie. You are knew, you might not know that yet, you should really remember."

"Right, ok," he put the cup on the pick up counter, "Here's your order, Natasha." She smiled at him, and he got the impression he was being evaluated for something.

"It was nice to meet you Phil." And she turned on her heels and walked to the table at the far end of the store. Phil wasn't sure how she knew his name.

"Name tag, dude," Clint said to Phil's confusion, and then glanced at the clock, "My break was going to be in like twenty minutes anyway, would you mind if I took it now, Nat's been out of the country all summer, I really want to catch up."

"No," Phil shook his head, "No, that's fine."

"Thanks," Clint said, "I owe you one."

And watching Clint talk to Natasha, watching the bright grins and the easy smiles, Phil thought that maybe, actually, he totally did find Clint interesting.

And that wasn't something he'd wanted out of Iowa.

 

***

The Boston Public School system had 57,000. The entire city of Waverly had less than 10,000, it was bound to be a culture shock. But still, Phil wasn’t expecting it to be so weird when he walked into Waverly-Shell Rock Senior High School, home of the Go-Hawks, at the beginning of September.

His school in Boston had been in the middle of a busy street. Other than Melinda, Marcus, and Skye, he hadn't really had any friends in school. His gang had been from all around the city and he had even been a part of the orchestra through a community center and not the school. But Steve and Jim were waiting for Phil at the front of the school after Phil found his parking space. Steve smiled and Jim slapped him on the back, before asking for his schedule.

"It won't be so bad," Jim promised, "You have Chemistry with me, and Algebra with Gabe, and Gym with Steve."

Steve glanced at it too, "Yeah," he agreed, "And our homeroom is right next to yours, so I can show you the way."

"Thanks," Phil says, sticking his hands deep into his khaki slacks.

Phil found Ms. Hand's room and introduced himself to the woman, shifting his glasses nervously under her glare.

He sat down and for lack of something better to do took out the back issue of  Captain America out of his binder and began flipping through it. He tried to make himself small and invisible, feeling uncomfortable in his new Captain America shirt and his thick glasses.

That, apparently, was not going to work though. Because as he sat with himself, someone shoved up against his desk, forcing a giant blue backpack into Phil’s face. Cackling with a friend.

“Hey,” Phil snapped, shoving the guy away. Only the guy turned on Phil, his face getting to close and his eyes narrowing.

“You want to make something of it, Nerd?” He growled

“Yeah,” Phil growled back, setting his comic down, and raising out of his seat. “I think I do.”

“Coulson, Kasedy, is their a problem.” Ms. Hand snapped from behind her desk.

Phil wanted to say something, and more than that, he wanted to punch the guys red face. But the teachers eyes were sharp, and Iowa was not the worse place he could be on the planet.

“No, Ma’am,” Phil said, “its fine.” he sunk back into the chair and gripped the sides of the desk to hold his fists back.

“Whimp,” Kasady muttered, “I’ll find you later, loser.”

And Phil glanced down at his clean Captain America shirt and pressed khakis, he felt the thick black glasses on his face. This is what he was now, nerd, whimp, and then loser. This was the price he had to pay.

***

Phil hates math. This is not a new thing. Phil hated math in Boston, and math in Iowa is no better. After 12 years of trying to master it, it still looked like a bunch of random lines on a page. He didn’t expect that to change.

But his Algebra 2 teacher, Ms. Richards, did not agree, “We have a really good student tutoring service, here.” She explained a week before Halloween, “You are just barely passing as it is, Phil, its only going to get harder, you need the help.”

And Phil knows he has to make As and Bs this semester. So he sighs, and agrees to meet a tutor on Monday after school.

No one was in Ms. Richards room at the appointed time except for the women herself and Clint when Phil got there. The both smile at him. Phil can’t help but wonder if this is the basketball star’s secret, he’s great at sports but terrible at math.

“Phil,” Ms. Richards said “This is Clint Barton, he’s got the highest score in Calculus right now, and got the highest score in Honors Algebra and Trig. last year. He’s going to be your tutor.”

“Hey, Phil,” Clint greeted, “its good to see you.”

“You too,” Phil squeaked, because seriously, the how was this possible. How is he both hot, and athletic, and apparently good enough to tutor other kids in math.”

"So boys," Why do you two work out some times you can get together and go over Phil's work." Ms. Richards instructed.

Phil nodded kind of dumbly and flops down into a desk at the back of the room, Clint follows suit, pulling a purple day planner out of his backpack.

"What days work best for you?" He asked, even though Phil could see that his schedule was basically full.

"Mondays and Wednesdays," Phil offered, "I don't normally work those days." He considered that, "but I can get my hours changed at work." which reminded him of something, "by the way, did you quite Hot Shots?"

"Not exactly," Clint said, "I only work during the summer, and Maria knows the Coronal, so it all works out. I have too much to do during the school year."

Phil didn't know who The Coronal was, but he just nodded, and waved his hand towards Clint's planner, questioning what days would be best.

"Mondays and Wednesdays right after school would be best for me too," Clint agreed, "Because I have science club at 4 on Mondays and Mathletes on Wednesdays, and we never start on time for either of them any way." Clint penciled something in to the planner, "We can just meet in the assigned rooms beforehand, here for Mathletes and Mr. Richards for science club." he turned to the teacher "That's ok, right?"

"It will be fine," she agreed, "And if Reed says its not, tell him to come and talk to me."

"Will do," Clint agreed, "Come on, we can go there now. And the great thing about this is, we can do some review, and then if you are still having a problem, you can work on your problem sets while the meetings go on, so if you need anymore help you can just ask me."

"Right," Phil agreed, and then "We have a science club?"

Clint grinned, "oh, yeah, I was a founding member. Its pretty cool, we are a small group, but everyone is pretty dedicated, so we meet every week." He leads them into Mr. Richards open classroom. Phil's never met the man, though the board says he teaches Physics.

"Ms. Richards says we can use your room for a tutoring session until the meeting starts," Clint informed the man, a then indicated Phil to a seat. He just nodded and went back to the equation he was writing on the board.

And so Clint went over Phil's most recent math lesson for about five minutes, before figuring out that the problem was about three concepts back, and starting on them. Phil was feeling a weird mix of being an idiot for not figuring it out sooner and grateful that it was finally starting to click, when a pair of kids walked in, freshmen by their size, and sat next to Clint.

"Oh," Said the girl excitedly, "Do we have a new member?"

"Maybe," Clint responded.

"I'm really more of a history man." Phil put in, "And government."

"We just have to convert him." Clint countered.

"Then why is he here?" the boy asked.

"Clint's helping me with some math stuff," Phil answered, might as well go with the truth, if this was going to be a regular thing.

They both nodded, and Clint grinned, "Phil Coulson, I'd like you to meet Jemma Simmons and Leo Fitz, who will one day be know by the singular pseudonym  FitzSimmons on all the papers the collaborate on."

A similar introduction took place with the sophomores Peter Parker and Miles Morales about three minutes later, though Peter added, to Phil’s embarrassment after spotting the various super hero patches on Phil’s backpack “I thought nerds were suppose to be good at math, its like our one redeeming quality.”

Miles hit him in the back of the head, hard.  Clint let out a little chuckle, and Phil kind of wanted to crawl into one of the ceiling tiles.

“You,” Jemma snapped good naturedly at Clint “shut up, you have upper body strength.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m only good at basketball because I understand the math and the Physics of the game.” Clint countered.

And that was how it went. Phil met Bruce Banner, and then, somehow, Tony Stark, who was exiled to Iowa after finishing at MIT ( what the hell?) and wanted to talk to Phil about Boston all of the time. He’d have figured that a billionaire genius would have something better to do than hang out at a public high school’s science club, even if he was only 17. But apparently he found the environment stimulating, and Jarvis, whoever that was, didn’t think he could cause as much harm their (Phil figured that Jarvis had never seen the explosion that Mr. Richards allowed in his classroom.)  The same group of people showed up to Mathletes, and really, that both helped and hurt Phil in equal measure.

The biggested thing that hurt him though, was Clint. And the fact that he was perfect. Oh sure, he was a basketball star, and a math and science genius, and everyone loved him, but he also took time to try and get to know Phil, asked about his life in Boston and his parents and sisters and friends. Phil answered as best he could.

“You play the violin?” Clint asked, “You should totally see about joining orchestra next semester, it's a ton of fun.”

Phil just kind of gapped at Clint, “You do orchestra too?”

“Yeah, um, I’m second chair cello,” he said, “Why?”

“When do you have time to do so much?” Phil asked,  “I mean you do what, basketball, rifle team, student council, Science club, mathletes, tutoring, and orchestra?”

“Um, I do modern language club too,” he blushed, “But that’s just once a month.”

“How...and why?”

“Well, the Colonel’s really supportive, and like, he’s great at making a schedule and sticking to it, and I’ve picked up some of his skills.” Clint explained, “And being well rounded is important to getting into a good college.”

“You’ve mentioned him before, but The Colonel?”

“Oh, you didn’t know, he’s my foster father, Retired Colonel Nicholas Fury. He’s a good guy, even if he’s pushing West Point maybe a little to hard. I’m not sure I can do well there, but they don’t charge tuition. The goal is to get a scholarship somewhere like MIT or something. I want to be an engineer.”

“That’s impressive.” Phil said, “I have no idea what I want to do.”

Clint frowned, “I thought you wanted to be a lawyer.” He said, “You radel off various law tidbits all the time. And you are always talking about wanting fight for the little guy. I didn’t have a bunch of direction in life for a while, didn’t think about it. But then I was sent to live with Nick, and he kind of glared at me with his one eye, and said it didn’t matter if I said my future goal was to be an Olympic archer, or a pop star, but I had to have a goal and a future in mind, had to have something to work towards. Like that poster in Ms. Richards room,

. Goals make a world of difference.”

Phil looked at Clint, and Clint looked back at him, like he was something important with a future and potential, like Clint could see clearly just what Phil could become. Clint, who’d been eleven and not had any future at all. Phil was kind of in awe.

***

One day, after mathletes, Phil was walking to his car with Fitzsimmons, who he’d offered to give a ride home to, and Miles and Peter, who might own more Spider-Man merch then Phil had Cap stuff.

It’s five people, and yet somehow, Kasedy thought its a good time to get the try and jump them. Peter had muttered something about how he and Kasedy had had issues in the past, but really Phil figured they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to fight them on school ground.

“Oh, look at all the little nerds.” Kasedy taunts, “You owe me money, Parker.”

“Do I?” Peter asked, “Well,” he turned out his pockets, “I guess I bought my milk for the day, you’ll have to try and steal my lunch money tomorrow.”

Kasedy sneared, and Phil was impressed with Peter’s quip though it did seem a little out of place, particularly given how much Leo was shaking.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you to pick on someone your own IQ?” Phil asked, because really, it was November, he’d been so good this year, but you couldn’t go around freaking out a bunch of skinny underclassmen. Captain America would not approve.

“You want to make something of it?” Kasedy asked, “Because last time, you went and hid behind a teacher.”

“No teachers here,” Phil pointed out, “but it is five against three, so, like its totally your choice.”

“Fuck you,” Kasedy snapped, and raised raised a hand to punch Phil, his hand connecting with Phil’s jaw before Phil did anything in retaliation.

But before anyone else could get in another hit, Phil launched himself at Kasedy, forcing him to the ground and locking him between his legs, “I am more than happy to do this,” Phil said, “But my aunt is making meatloaf tonight, and if I miss it because I have to take care of you, I will be very upset.” He pinned Kasedy’s arm to the ground, “Do you understand.”

“Fuck,” Kasedy tried to shake the hold, but Phil wouldn’t budge, “Fine, whatever, fuck you man.”

Phil stood up and pulled Kasedy with him, the man was shaking, clearly not sure what he was suppose to do with any of it.

“What the hell,” he heard Clint’s voice say. but Phil didn’t spare him a glance, instead he got close into Kasedy’s face.

“Leave me alone, leave all of us alone, because next time I’ll draw blood, or better yet, I’ll get a teacher.” he said, “And you will not like the results.” He let go of Kasedy, and glared at him until he’d retreated to the woods off school grounds.

“That,” Miles started, “Was the coolest thing ever, Clint, Phil is like the coolest person you’ve ever brought to science club.”

“I can see that” Clint said, look at Phil with something strange in his eyes, just as Leo muttered “I knew I should have learned Kung-Fu.”

“What was that?” Jemma asked.

“Um, Brazilian jiu jitsu,” Phil said, “I just got my brown belt in the spring with my friend Melinda. I’m kind of out of practice thought.”

“No way are you out of practice,” Peter counted, “You have got to teach me that.

And if the next science club meeting featured about an hours worth of demonstration, well Mr. Richards didn’t care, and Phil got to see the muscles in Clint’s back work overtime.

***

“So, you still can’t come home for Christmas?” Marcus asked two days after Thanksgiving.

“No” Phil shook his head in clear view of the web cam, “Spring Break is the earliest I can take a trip home, but I’ve played by all the rules so far, so I do get Christmas presents.”

“That’s something at least,” Marcus said, “It’d be just depressing without them.”

“It wouldn’t be depressing if I wasn’t in Iowa.” Phil said, “Iowa is depressing.”

“I thought it was better?” Marcus said, “That you were kind of making friends, Clint and Steve and shit.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “It is better, but its still Fucking Iowa.”

“Well, maybe start talking it up, because I’m considering coming for Christmas.”

“Seriously?” Phil asked, “How, why, how, seriously?”

“Seriously, so you know how I don’t talk to my dad?” Marcus said.

“ First fact a guy one learns early about you.” Phil said, “what does that have to do with anything.”

“Well, my father had recently extended his yearly invite to come and spend Christmas with him, and funny thing, he lives in Waverly, Iowa.” Marcus pauses and lets the full weight of it sink in.

It might be the best Christmas present ever.

Marcus had to put up with a lot before he could actually see Phil. He Marcus Johnson’s parents had had a bad break up, so bad in fact that Marcus’s mother had changed the three month old’s name from Nick jr., to Marcus, and ditched his father’s last name entirely. This was a reconciliation in his father, a hard ass military types, eyes, and Marcus had to play happy family for a day or so.

But he texted that his dad apparently had a foster kid who was actually pretty cool, and that he and his best friend were going to be joining Phil and Marcus for their first catch up lunch, and Phil should invite some of his friends along, because Marcus wanted to meet them.

So Steve and Phil got to Hot Shots at noon, about an hour before Steve’s shift and Marcus immediately flagged him down.

Really, Phil felt like he should be surprised, but at this point, everything in his life revolved around Clint Barton, so the fact that he was sitting next to Marcus, and that Natasha was on his other side shouldn’t have bothered him so much. Also, apparently Marcus’s dad was Colonel Nick Fury. Marcus did not look like a Nick Fury, jr. at all.

“Dude,” Marcus said, “Clint says he knows you.”

“Yeah,” Phil agreed, “He’d been helping me with math,” He turned to Steve, “Steve, this is Marcus, Marcus, Steve.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said.

“Oh, its great to meet you, because you have stories about what Phil’s been up to out here.” Marcus said, and then turned back to Phil, “And also, Natasha says she won’t go out with me.”

“You shouldn’t ask a woman out when her boyfriend is sitting right next to her.” Phil advised, he’s only met Natasha once, when he’s joined Gabe at modern Language club, but she gave off an air control and danger.

But now she just laughed, “Clint, why does your friend think we are dating?” she asked.

“No idea,” Clint responded, laughing too, “That would be a horrible idea, even if you were my type.”

“Well,” Phil offered Marcus with a smirk, “I guess its just that she can smell how bad you are at pleasing women.”

“You are such an asshole, I can’t believe I missed you.” Marcus said, “Also, I can’t believe you look half way respectable. I need a picture of you, because no one will believe I saw you without your jacket, or a bloody lip.”

“What?” Clint and Steve both asked. But Phil swallowed slowly.

“A picture, really?” Phil asked, “What are you trying to prove?”

“That you’ve gone straight...ish Cheese,” Marcus answered, “Most people think all your little gang’s shit caught up with you, they think you’re in jail and that your parents are just trying to save face.”

“Jail?” Asked Steve, a little wide eyed, “Why would they think he was in jail?”

“Because he got picked up by the cops for a third time and no one saw him again,” Marcus laughed, “its like your friends don’t know about your juvie record, Cheese.”

“My friends don’t know about my juvie record, Marcus,” Phil managed to grit out.

Marcus looks as stunned as the rest of them. “But, you’re you, you don’t believe in things like rules and oppression and shit, how can they not know.”

“Because I’m working on finding more constructive ways to fight the system, and also, I’m trying really really had to not break any of my parents rules so I don’t get shipped off to military school, which would be so much worse than Iowa. I’m almost done paying back my dad for the lawyer fee, I haven’t talked to anyone but you and Melinda. I’m making As and Bs, and I’m trying very hard to not drudge up the past.”

Steve looked shocked and perhaps a little hurt, Natasha looked confused, but Clint just whispered, an unreadable expression on his face “You have a juvie record?”

“Yeah,” Phil muttered, “That’s why I’m here.” Before storming out.

He hadn’t wanted anyone in Iowa to find out hadn’t wanted anyone to find out this way, hadn’t wanted anyone to find out at all. He was a punk trouble maker at home, and he was a loser nerd here. That wasn’t the best thing, but it was better than being some kind of fake nerd wow was apparently trying and failing to seem rebellious it was better than his two closest friend suddenly thinking he was some completely other person who’d been lying to them for nearly half a year.

***

“So,” Clint said, closing the door behind him. “You have a juvie record?”

Phil hadn’t expected for Clint to show up for their tutoring date. It had been five days since Marcus had explained why Phil had left Boston. Five days since Phil had seen any of his friends (save Marcus who’d come over to apologize and play a videogame.) Maria hired seasonal workers every year. She otherwise students would try to take extra days off to make the most of their break. And so Phil hadn’t even had to see a repeat of that hurt look in Steve’s eyes when he realized that Phil wasn’t exactly the kindred spirit he’d thought this entire time.

“Yeah.” Phil nodded, what else is there to say? “I’m sure Marcus can fill you in.”  

“He’s not talking.” Clint said, “He’s really loyal to you, and I think he feels really bad. Try not be too hard on him.”

“He came over a few days ago,” Phil said, “I forgave him. And in his definece, I’m really a punkass dude back home, its why I’m here, he never imagined you guys didn’t know.”

“So, is that the whole thing with fight?” Clint asked, “With Kasedy a while back?”

“More or less,” Phil said, and then paused “I mean, I didn’t get in trouble with the law because of fights. With my mom sometimes, but not the law, I didn’t pick fights with people who’d press charges.”

“Smart,” Clint said with a slight smile. “So what did you get in trouble with the police for.”

Phil glared, “I don’t want to…”

“How ‘bout this, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” There was a beat.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’ll tell you about my juvie record if you’ll share yours. I mean, mine’s pretty awesome. So no guarantee that you’ll still seem like the badass punk after I share.” Clint smirked, “You can go first, if you want.”

Phil raised an eyebrow behind his glasses, it was a challenge. Clint had to be lying, there was no way in hell that Clint, golden boy, star athlete, future engineer, was going to actually have any trouble with the law worse than a parking ticket, or driving too slowly. And yet, “graffiti is the only thing I ever actually got caught for, after the fourth time, they started to look into other stuff, and mom freaked out. Because even though I didn’t get caught for the fighting, or the shoplifting, or that one time with the breaking and entering, my mom knew about it. I think she and Dad where afraid I was going to wind up a drug addict in a gang.”

“Where you?” Clint asked. No judgement, just curiosity.

“No!” Phil said emphatically, “we weren’t so much a gang as a...pseudo-anarchist collective?”

“An anarchist collective?” Asked Clint skeptically, “like fight the power?”

“Fight the man...I did say pseudo, I did make that qualification.” Phil rolled his eye, “Its about doing the right thing, and knowing that the system isn’t always going to back you up.”

“Is that where the Captain America fanboy comes in?” He nodded at the five different poster on the wall, and the pillowcase with a smiling face on it.

Phil blushed, and fought it down, “If you studied Cap’s history, you’d know that he’d hated bullies and would disobey orders in favor of doing what’s right.”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded, “Steve was here for like a year before you, I know ALL the Captain America trivia.”

“Want to test that theory?” Phil challenged.

“Not even slightly.” Clint responded with a grin.

“Well,” Phil said, getting back on track, “Mom thinks Cap’s a good influence, they confiscated all of my like band t-shirts and stuff, my leather jacket.” Phil sighed, “Marcus got me a shirt for Christmas I think, and mom says since I made all As and didn’t get into any fights,” he grimaces, “I get my contacts back.”

Clint frowned, it was annoying that even that expression couldn’t make him look unattractive. Phil hated how Clint never looked unattractive. “You don’t have you contacts?”

“I haven’t worn my glasses full time since like 6th grade, I always hated them as a kid, hence why they were a very effective punishment.” He glanced to himself in the mirror, frowning at his own reflection. He pulled them off, and his reflection went blurry. “I’ve been told I look much better like this, but of course I don’t see it right now.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it an improvement.” Clint said, and there was something in his voice that was, off, Phil felt his face heat as he shoved his glasses on. Well, he knew he was never something fantastic to look at, but he’d at least never been called ugly before.

“Well,” Phil tried, how do you respond to that.

“Oh, god, I mean,” Clint shook his head, “No, Phil, god, I mean that you don’t look bad with glasses, like, like…” He took a deep breath, “You don’t have much to improve on with glasses, so like taking them off, you still look good.” he bit his lip, and Phil got the distinct impression that Clint Barton was shy. “I have like 20/8 vision, I see things really well. Trust me...you look good.”

Phil didn’t know how it had happened, but he found himself inches away from Clint, and something charged was between them that Phil could not quite wrap his head around. But Clint’s eyes, looking in him, were so lovely, blue and green a gold, shining brightly.

“So...I told you mine.” Phil said, desperate to break the tension, “now you tell me yours.”

Clint leaned back, grinning, and Phil wondered, for a moment, if he’d been played. “I got a count of B and E,” he held up his hand, as though he was going to count things, off, “And two counts of grand theft Auto.” he grinned a little wider at the look on Phil’s face. “And distributing stolen goods, oh, and they were going to try and get me for assault briefly, but they had like not case for that one.”

“That’s…” Phil did not have a response for that, because well, “How did you have time for all of that.” He asked, and though he knew it was a stupid question, he couldn’t help it. “I still don’t know how you have time for tutoring sessions.”

Clint’s smile dimmed a little, “It wasn’t exactly recently. I was eleven...or, well, twelve when the charges were actually brought up but still, and all of those records are ridiculously sealed.”

“Eleven? How could you, at eleven.”

“Eleven year olds have really small hands, so like, you can re-wire stuff.” Clint explained, “Also, Eleven year olds who ran away from abusive foster situations don’t have many options.” Clint smiled at Phil’s stunned face, “Yeah, so, i used to lead an exciting life. But my brother ditched me, right after that assault I was talking about, and I got caught.” he laughed “I was eleven, I didn’t know what to do, I sung like a canary. The social worker was a good woman though, and she thought The Coronal would be just the right fit for me. He basically said I had a ton of potential, but that I wasn’t doing anything with it. He got me a cello, signed me up for 12 and under basketball, and a bunch of other things, but those were the two that stuck.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Phil offered.

“He’s really awesome, and like, Marcus is a lot like him, actually, I see the family resemblance.” Clint smiled that beautiful perfect smile that had made Phil want to get to know him back in the summer, standing behind the counter at Hot Shots. “The point is, I really don’t care about your juvie record or how ‘cool’ you are or any of that. No one who matters does, but I know you are a great person, and I like you regardless. I like you a lot.”

Clint was up close to him again, just a few inches from Phil’s face, and really Phil couldn’t do anything but close the distance and kiss him deeply.

***

Phil was mashing potatoes for the first time. Aunt Lucy was insisting that they make some semblance of the Christmas Meal on Christmas Eve, because they’d be going to Maria’s for actual Christmas Day dinner. Phil’s mother normally forbid him from cooking, and though he was pretty sure he couldn’t do what Aunt Lucy was currently doing to the cranberries in the pan on the oven, he was perfectly capable of hitting potatoes really really hard.

It was 2 in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, so neither of them expected the sound of the doorbell ringing through the house.

Aunt Lucy looked towards the front hall in surprise, “Your friend Marcus isn’t coming over, is he?”

“No, he’s been texting, apparently his Dad want’s to get to know him or something.” Phil said. “I don’t know who that could be.”

“Me neither, can you go check.” She nodded to the pan she was stirring, “If I leave these, they might burn.” He considered it for a second, “And take the plate of cookies in case its carolers or something.”

Phil nodded and headed to the front door, not even bothering to take off the Boston Red Sox apron, who knew they made things like Boston Red Sox aprons.

He opened the door and instantly regretted it, because on the porch in front of him, in a Iowa Hawkeye’s hoody and beat up purple gloves, stood Clint Barton. Looking as effortly attractive as ever despite his windblown hair and red nose. He was also holding a large purple gift bag.

“Hi,” He said, with a bright smile.

“Hey,” Phil responded, suddenly regretting wearing his oldest, rattiest Captain America hoodie to bake in, and the Captain America socks.

“We um, ran out of cookie dough because we kept eating it pre-baking.” Clint said hurriedly, “And that will not do for the Coronals Big Family Christmas featuring his estranged son.”

Phil frowned, “And they made you go out in the cold and get some,” That didn’t seem fair, in fact, it seemed really really mean.

Clint shook his head, “He was going to make Marcus do it. But I volunteered.” He paused and bit his lip in the way Phil was learning mean he was shy. “I wanted to have a chance to give this to you.” And he thrusted the big purple bag at Phil.

“You...didn’t have to get me anything.” Phil said hurriedly, stopping himself from admitting that the kiss had been more then enough.

“No, I know, I didn’t really get you something, and it isn’t a big deal, you just said something the other day and I thought of this.” Clint said with his brightest grin.

“Thanks,” Phil said, clutching the bag to his chest, it wasn’t heavy exactly, but it certainly had a weight to it. “I didn’t get you anything.” he muttered.

“Well,” and Clint’s smile turned slightly mischievous, “How about make it up to me by going with me to Tony’s party on wednesday?”

“A date?” Asked Phil, and Clint nodded, biting his lip again, “Yeah,” Phil breathed out, and then smiled, “Yeah, I would definitely be good with that.”

“Awesome!!” Clint said, “That’s...awesome. Its at Hot Shots, Tony wanted it to be at an abandoned barn, but between Pepper and Rhodey, they managed to convince him to rent out the coffee shop instead.”

Phil frowned, “Its closed all next week.”

“From what I heard from Thor, who spends way too much time with Tony I should add, Tony paid really good money. And Maria is staffing it herself because she does not trust us teenagers.” Clint explained, “Its apparently suppose to be a big thing.”

“Is it like fancy?” Phil asked.

“No,” Clint shook his head, “Just jeans and shit, I asked Tony, who asked Pepper, who made a ruling.” Clint grinned, “though I would love to see what you’d do for a suit.”

Phil didn’t know what to say to that kind of compliment, to he just thrust Aunt Lucy’s plate of cookies towards Clint.

“Thanks,” he said, grabbing a chocolate chip one. He glanced up and down the street, and then leaned in and gave Phil another kiss on the corner of the mouth, before he took a bite of his cookie and returning to his car with a jaunty wave that Phil could just barely return.

***

Aunt Lucy was pleased as punch that Phil’s got a date with Clint Barton. He was a town hero and she must have figured if anyone can set Phil on the straight and narrow, I’d be him.

Phil didn’t necessarily think she’s wrong,  

But still, it was Phil’s first official date, and if he was going to prove to Clint that he was worth a date, he wasn’t going to show up in pressed khaki’s and over sized Captain America shirt. The clean cut look worked for Clint, but Phil felt like some sort of weird impostor.

He put on his oldest jeans and the ripped Cap t-shirt that Marcus has liberated from Boston. He’d totally ditched the glasses since his contacts were returned, but he’d also dug out, from the bottom of his suitcase where he’d hidden it, his old silver studs, and put them in the ear holes that had not closed up. To top it all off, he put on Clint’s Christmas present. A beautiful and beaten leather jacket. Clearly fourth or fifth hand, and the most beautiful thing Phil had ever gotten. He had no idea if he looked any good like this anymore. But he felt more like himself then he had in all the time he’d spent in Iowa, he just hoped it was a side of him that Clint liked.

Clint’s car pulled up to the house, and when he got out, Phil’s jaw dropped. He was not rocking the clean cut american look tonight either. He had on a tight purple t-shirt and tight black jeans, a single hoop stuck from his left ear, and Phil was almost certain he was wearing eyeliner.

“Shit.” Clint muttered, looking Phil up and down, “When I said their was nothing to improve, I meant it, and you are totally hot with glasses, but this, is like, another level. Also the jacket looks way better on you.”

“I highly doubt that,” Phil said, running a hand up Clint’s arm, the shirt was tight enough that he could still see the definition through the sleeves. They got into the car, and Phil really couldn’t help himself, he punched, pushing Clint up against the door and kissing him breathless.

“Ok,” Clint said, after a few minutes, “That is awesome, like seriously, the most awesome thing and we should totally do it again,  but right now, I want to go to the party, and show everyone that I have this really hot boyfriend who not only knows everything about Captain America, but also can name all of the US senators and has a really large working knowledge of civil rights law and looks ridiculously badass and hot in a leather jacket.”

“Boyfriend?” Phil asked quietly.

“Oh, crap, not I mean, we don’t have to…”

“No” Phil shook his head, “No, I like that a lot, boyfriend. I definitely want to tell everyone about my star athlete, musical genius and mathematics prodigy boyfriend.”

“We are a very talented pair, aren’t we.” Clint grinned.   

“We are, we could rule the world, if we wanted to.” Phil offered.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, taking his hand, “But I’d really rather protect it. You know from like bad guys and the forces of evil and stuff.”

“You and me, protectors of the world, a shield against evil do-ers.” Phil asked, lifting Clint’s hand and kissing it, “Oh, I really really like that.”

 

 


End file.
